


Fireproof

by misssud



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:35:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28785054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misssud/pseuds/misssud
Summary: With a target on his back, a bounty on his head, and rumors of war in far off places threatening the balance of the universe, the late-discovered, waterbending native Avatar Harry must rush to master all four elements in order to save both himself and the tumultuous four nations. A nearly-impossible task made unbearable by the introduction of world-renowned firebending Master Louis, whose tongue burns nearly as hot as his flames. Featuring a young Firelord with much to prove, a head of security with a dark secret, an airbending master who seemingly hangs the sun in the sky, and a never-ending string of assassination attempts, it is quite difficult to believe Harry could save anyone.So what then, of the fate of the world?(( Inspiration drawn from this post: https://pupperlouis.tumblr.com/post/172115928924/avatar-au-harrys-the-avatar-born-a-waterbender ))
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter One

The middle of the ocean is often depicted as a place of great despair. Unending, swirling sea temptresses paint in shades of gossamer and gold as the sun dips into the deep. The sea lives and breathes in waves of blue and splashes of salt, it eats anything in its unwavering path, it sinks ships with little fanfare.

The small metal vessel should be shaking unfalteringly at the whim of the waves, clouds roll in from the horizon and drown the world in a dreary gray. A storm is coming and the crewmen aren’t quite sure what they should be doing. In most instances, they’d be preparing for destruction, for the potential that they may very well never see their families again. However, this fear is completely unfounded in this particular instance, because although the sea rages on, the vessel remains completely unscathed. For standing at the ship’s bow, sucking in great gasps of the salten air, stands a boy, and the sea is held firmly in his gentle clutches.

He’s young, or so the armor-encased crew lament as their rather important journey beats on. He’s gangly too, and quite alarmingly thin, as though he’s never had a full meal in all of his teenaged years. If it weren’t for his more remarkable qualities, the boy would be nothing really out of the ordinary. Just another too skinny boy with his shoulders weighed down by great boulders of unending tragedy.

The boat beats on, the immediate ocean area surrounding it is calm enough that the crew are able to see each and every blemish on their sea-hardened faces. Even the sky does not seem to want to bring harm to this rather brilliant boy stood at the boat’s front. Outside of that, however, the storm rages on.  
“Sir?” A curious voice causes the mysterious bowman’s eyes to flutter open, they are a mirror of the ocean itself, speckled with forest greens and midnight blues. They’re enchanting, and the swordsman finds himself blushing at the thought.

“No need for such formalities,” He smiles, his voice carries a deep harmonic lilt with it, as though he himself harnesses all of the universe’s most intimate secrets. He doesn’t seem quite so keen on sharing them. “‘S just Harry.” He adds, tearing his magnetic eyes from the ocean ahead and boring into the very soul of the young man on his side.

“Sorry then, Harry.” The man relaxes a bit, he’s found in his journey that he, much like the rest of the known planet, is quite enchanted by the mystery that is Harry. “We’re nearing the docks now. I hope not to be too forward but, the captain’s worried about the visibility, and… well…” He trails off, a bashful redness rising to his otherwise marble cheeks. Harry smiles by his side, soft and warm in all the kindest ways.

“No problem, mate. It’s honestly good practice. Can’t let myself get rusty.”

“Good lad. Right then, I’ll be out of your way.” The swordsman backs away, giving the prodigy his space while also quite unashamedly finding the perfect angle to watch the oncoming spectacle. He can hear the rest of the crew gathering behind him, their eyes glancing unwaveringly at what great wonders are about to take place.  
Harry stands still for a few moments, seemingly taking in deep breaths of fresh sea air in tune with the beat of the surf, of the roiling of the tide. He’s done this quite a few times over the days that this journey has taken place, and yet the crew still find themselves completely enamored by the process. As Harry breathes, the ocean waves move with him. His arms begin to lift at his sides, as if of their own accord, and then in a flash they rise in front of him, moving in sync with the entire Earth around them. The thick fog that has been attempting to eat away at the vessel for the past while begins to dissipate, swirling in time to the silent music Harry is creating with just his piano player’s fingers and his warm eyes. The storm around them seems to falter a bit, but roars on as if to battle the boy.

This song and dance is a familiar one to Harry, to the crew of the Firelord’s fastest vessel, and yet everyone waits with bated breaths. Harry breathes deeply, once, arms extended far from his sides and pointed with specific purpose. He flicks his wrists, gently, and the ocean waves rumble to a halt. He brings his hands together at his solar plexus, points out, and in a shoot of salty water, the fog meets the waves. It swirls in entrancing patterns, and Harry smiles as he works, hums along gently until the fog is gone, until the sky is a brilliant shade of blue, until on the horizon sits his entire future.

“Wow.” He breathes in a sparkle in his voice. “It’s even more magnificent than I imagined.” He adds, and Liam’s by his side again, his face still a bit dumbstruck by the magnificent display of raw power he had just witnessed. 

“Wait until you see the inside. I’m telling you, they’ve got more chandeliers than they know what to do with.” Liam, the aforementioned swordsman, breaks himself from his own stupor and claps Harry on the back in a brotherly fashion. “You’re going to love it, kiddo.” He adds with a burst of warmth, Harry smiles at him, eyes still trained at the looming fortress on the horizon.

“Right then. Well, I’d like to be the first to welcome you to the Fire Nation, Avatar.”

***

“Sir, you don’t understand. It’s like watching everything in the universe aligning for one moment of great harmony.” Liam has been following at the young Firelord’s heels since he had arrived back in the Fire Nation earlier this morning, which is the spot he is most often found. In the few hours they’d been reunited, the head of security for the royal family had been babbling on about how the newly discovered Avatar is nothing like anything anyone on this planet has ever seen. And yes, he means that quite literally.

“So you’ve said, Li.” There’s a humorous tilt in the Firelord’s voice. He had quite missed the incessant blabbering of his head of security in the past few weeks, although his ego would never permit him to admit that. “I’d quite like to meet this miraculous boy myself, as I’ve extended this gracious invitation.”

“Right, of course, Z.” Liam lets the nickname slip out without much thought, but the other man feels a thrill run up his spine. No one ever called him anything outside of the royal formalities, his mother once had but that was quite some time ago. Liam had never really been able to understand the subtle nuances of life within the innermost circle of royalty, and that was a never ending source of amusement for the most powerful man in the Fire Nation. “I’ll call upon him immediately. He should be in the throne room quite soon.”

“No, no. I’ll go to his chambers directly. I want to ensure he’s absolutely comfortable, only the best for our most esteemed guest.” The Firelord responds seriously, a sheen of sweat beginning to become apparent on his otherwise perfectly unblemished skin. The walk from the grand meeting hall to the palace’s personal chambers is a deceivingly long one, and as Spring begins to sink into Summer, the days are only growing hotter. The Firelord’s royal robes are not quite built for the warmer months, which yes, he knows, is supremely ironic.

“Zayn, are you certain? It’s not quite the proper thing to do.”

“Since when were you the expert in all things proper, Li?” Zayn bites back without any venom, and Liam huffs at his side. They arrive at the doorway to the young man’s chambers and find it blown wide open. Zayn’s heart skips a beat because he can’t have lost the wonder-boy so soon after his arrival.

“Avatar?” He calls, poking his head through the doorway and into the bright room. “Are you alright?” He adds with a bit of worry in his voice, looking around the seemingly untouched area. There’s a moment of pure, undisturbed silence, and then a bark of warm laughter lights the room in even brighter hues.

“‘S Harry!” A voice echoes back, and in another moment a curly-haired giant is loping around the corner. He’s dressed in traditional waterbending garb, a light blue tank top hugs snugly against his oddly well-defined chest. A blue piece of fabric circles around his sinewy upper-bicep, and he’s got on a pair of brown pants and warm-looking boots. There’s joy etched in every crevice of his angular face, his pink lips cracked wide open in a smile. “I’m Harry.” He repeats and extends his hand to the other man, who can’t help but feel the infectious joy that permeates the room.

“Zayn.” The Firelord responds, shaking the most powerful being in the known universe’s hand. He’s quite gangly, the Firelord notes but grins back accordingly. “I just wanted to welcome you, make sure everything is up to snuff. That you’re comfortable and all that. Especially after such an arduous journey.” 

“Comfortable?” The Avatar questions, his face scrunched up in confusion. Zayn feels his heart skip a beat, fearing that perhaps Liam had led him astray and that this boy was a monster in disguise. “How could you even ask that? This is…” He trails off, his arms sweeping around the room comically. “Amazing, mate. This is the most spectacular place I’ve ever been to! I mean, would you look at the size of it all? I can’t imagine how I could possibly use all of this room.”

“He reacted similarly to the ship, my lord,” Liam whispers into the firebender’s ear, a smile swimming in his voice. Zayn figures that he quite likes this over-enthused lad.

“Right, well. If anything’s not to your liking, I’ll expect you’ll come right to me. No matter what, you’re my guest now. I’ll take care of you.” Something cracks in Harry’s carefully cultivated facade at that and Zayn blinks a few times for fear he may have missed it. Perhaps it was simply a trick of his eyes because the Avatar is back to warm smiles and grand hand gestures within the second.

“Mate, I really can’t thank you enough for everything. This has all been quite amazing so far. I never thought I’d see anything more spectacular than the Earth Kingdom but… wow. You’ve outdone yourself. Truly. Everything’s incredible here.” Harry oozes out praises for quite some time, but unlike with others who seem to constantly be sucking up to the young Firelord, this feels oddly genuine. There’s something magnetic about Harry, it’s as if he’s the sun, and Zayn, like most everyone who’s met the boy, feels sucked up in his orbit.

“Of course, Harry.” Zayn’s voice is alarmingly soft, and Liam starts a bit at that. The usual sharpness it’s laced with lost in a few moments with the Avatar. “I’m honestly really quite glad to have someone my age here. It’s rather stuffy with all these old gits.”

“Hey-” 

“Oh shut up, Li. You’re an old soul.” Liam scoffs at that, but Harry barks out that infectious laughter and the three young men soon dissolve into fits of chuckling. 

“Anyways,” Zayn feels reality crashing back down around him, recalling he’s got an entire nation to run and whatnot. “There’s a dinner tonight. I’d really love to have you at my side, Harry, I think you’ll be a right riot. ‘Sides, the greatest fire-bending master in the world is set to be there, and I think it would be best if you meet before your training begins tomorrow. He’s…” Zayn trails off, searching for the right word to describe the man in question. “Well… you’ll see.”

“Sounds fantastic. I honestly can’t wait. I think we’re going to be great friends, Zayn.” Harry speaks to Zayn as though he’s just another teenage boy and isn’t holding the fate of an entire nation on his shoulders.

“Me too. I’ll have Liam pick you up at sundown.” The Firelord responds swiftly, trying to regain the air of regalness he so often wears. Harry has stripped it from him in a few measly sentences, which is a feat in and of itself. 

“Perfect. Thanks, lads!” Harry crows. “I’ll be meditating till then, anyways.” And with that, Harry disappears back into whatever corner of the room he’d holed himself up in, leaving Liam and Zayn behind. It’s as if the very sun has left the sky when Harry’s not around, the lack of him is palpable in every way.

“See?” Liam whispers harshly as Zayn turns on his heel and begins the aggravatingly long walk back towards the meeting chambers. He’s got a strategy meeting he’s sure he’s running rather late for, which won’t look great for him, but he can’t come to regret his introduction to the Avatar. Liam is on his heels as always, and together, with a bit more lightness in each of their respective steps, they march on.

***

Liam is stood expectantly in Harry’s doorway as the last lingering rays of golden sunlight melt into the bruised blue of the nighttime sky. Harry, much as he had told the duo before, had spent the day meditating. He was quite in touch with the spirit world, with the spiritual nature that came with being the Avatar, and required little practice on that end. His main focus for the past few months had been cultivating the necessary skills to becoming the “all-powerful” Avatar. Perhaps he should’ve spent the day working on the last techniques his Earth-bending master had bestowed upon him, but he thought it rather rude to just upend Zayn’s beautifully kept gardens. 

“Evening, Captain.” Harry addresses the older man and smiles perfectly. Liam nods back with a soft grin of his own and turns on his heel. Harry keeps pace with the swordsman, as he’s got a few inches on him. They spend the first few moments of the journey in silence, and Harry’s just fine with that. He’s enjoying looking around at the warm-toned lanterns that light their way, of the seemingly floating candles that line each pathway with precision.

“I hope you’re hungry because I’m telling you, these Fire Nation blokes don’t mess around when it comes to mealtimes. And you can take my word for it as an Earth Kingdom native.” Liam interrupts Harry’s thoughts as they continue to march in perfect time to each other. Liam doesn’t much like pro-longed silences, but the Avatar can’t find it in him to care much. He’s always been a pretty good listener. Harry smiles slightly at that, after spending the past few months in the Earth Kingdom, he could appreciate Liam’s comment.

“The Earth Kingdom practically has full buffets for every meal. I’ve never seen anything else quite like that.” Harry remembers fondly the first time he’d journeyed into the Kingdom, when he’d traveled from village to city, and how regardless of where he was, there was always food to eat, or take. The rest of his memories aren’t tinted in the same rosy hues, but he shakes them away as Liam goes on. 

“I know. My mother used to be a cook. Always went on about cooking for the rich,” Liam’s voice holds something heavy, but Harry doesn’t mention it. He knows some things are best left unsaid, too personal to share with a perfect stranger regardless. Harry shakes himself from the thought just as they round a corner and stand on the crest of a hill overlooking what Harry can only assume is the great dining pavilion.

“In the colder months, they eat in the dining hall, which is indoors. Gets bloody hot in the warmer months though, so any circulation you can get is sought out. That’s why they eat out here. Much cooler, especially in the evening times.” Harry doesn’t really listen because he’s too struck looking at just how brilliant the pavilion is. It’s lit up as bright as the day, lanterns and candles take up every inch of space they can, burning as warm as the summer sun. Ivy leaves crawl around the column’s edges, and great, sweeping vines have taken up residence around the perimeter. It’s insanely beautiful, and Harry feels the breath leave his chest.

“Wow.” He murmurs to no one in particular.

“Right? I could hardly believe it myself first time I saw it. Anyways, we should get going. Don’t want to keep the Firelord waiting and all that.” Liam continues babbling and walking, and Harry follows him immediately, eyes never tearing away from the great structure laid out in perfect succession in front of him. He can feel the buzzing energy from a few feet out and notices that there are more than a few people present.

“Harry!” Zayn greets the boy as if they’re old, old friends and not two blokes who’d shared a few scattered sentences just a few hours prior.

“Zayn!” Harry smiles back, mirroring the Firelord’s knowing tone almost exactly. Zayn then led the duo over to a few seats at a more secluded section of the pavilion. The three of them take their seats and begin eating with little fanfare. Zayn and Liam have a short series of chats about this and that, and Harry adds his input whenever he feels it necessary. The food is delicious, and Harry feels as though he could get very used to going to sleep with a full belly when Zayn addresses him directly for the first time.

“Harry, I told you there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Zayn’s eyebrows raise and his eyes flit towards the pavilion’s main entrance. Harry follows his gaze immediately and traces each and every step of the only man daring to enter the Firelord’s presence so late into a meal. He’s definitely fit, Harry notices, with a head of chestnut hair pointing in every direction. It’s obvious he’s from the fire nation, as he’s dressed in the traditional garb with a golden bracelet wrapped tightly around his upper bicep. He’s also quite young.

“He’s that someone, I suppose?” Harry responds, his eyes tracing each and every step the newcomer makes. It takes the bender a moment to notice that he’s headed directly for them, either not noticing or not caring about the heaps of dirty looks he’s garnering from the rest of the nobles present. 

Zayn nods solemnly just as the man approaches. He’s standing, arms crossed and glaring at Zayn with a quiet fire in his eyes. Zayn rises slowly, and Liam follows suit, so of course, Harry does as well.

“Louis.” Zayn nods regally, regarding the man with something undetectable in his eyes.

“What is it then? What do you need me here for?” His voice is sharp, lined with brutal edges that slice at everyone within listening distance. Harry finds himself cringing back a bit at the tone of voice, but no one else makes much notice of it.

“Good to see you too, Master.” Harry detects a hint of venom in the Firelord’s voice but opts to ignore that as well. He likes to make his own out of whoever he meets. “I just wanted you to meet your newest student. This is Harry. He’ll be starting tomorrow.” Louis doesn’t even glance over at the other boy, instead immediately opening his mouth to have a go at it with the most powerful man in the Nation.

“I don’t recall making the decision to take on another student.” His voice is stiff.

“I don’t think I really asked,” Zayn responds haughtily, his warm toffee eyes boring holes into the fire-bending master’s very soul. He seems unphased by this look though, and barrels on.

“I don’t have time for another student, I’m quite booked.”

“I’m your only student.”

“Exactly, and you’re pretty shit. You tire me out with all the attention and work your lackluster skills demand.”

“Oh, piss off.”

“I’m not taking on another student, I can’t.”

“It’s not an option.”

“I’m not-”

“Louis, this is the Avatar for God’s sake. He’s your newest student. You can whine all you want but unfortunately for all of us, you’re the very best at what you do. Now I’m sure you know about the time crunch he’s on to master the elements, so I suggest you get over your sorry self and start training. This is the last I want to hear of this, I won’t humor this disrespect any further. I’m the Firelord for crying out loud.” Zayn’s voice comes out in a hiss, and Harry squirms uncomfortably because he feels as though he’s caused a rift he wasn’t even aware existed. Louis stares at Zayn for a moment, his crystalline eyes glowing in the soft moonlight.

“Fine.” He grits out eventually, still not even bothering to look at Harry. “We start at sun-up.” He adds as an afterthought before turning on his heel and stalking out of the open-aired room. Heads turn as he leaves, captivating the onlooker’s attention and taking it with him. 

“That’s Louis.” Zayn sounds tired when he nods after the rapidly vanishing figure of the fire-bender. “I’m sorry in advance.” Zayn nods, and Liam chuckles along.

“Proper ray of sunshine, he is.” Liam’s voice has something laced in it as well, but Harry can’t quite identify what it means. “Wait until you see him in action, though, it’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen.”

And Liam is quite right about that.


	2. Chapter Two

“Again.” Louis’ voice is perfectly emotionless, but even the lack of anything, in particular, has become grating on Harry’s ears. He stifles a groan, rises to his feet, and wipes the spot of blood that’s taken to repeatedly blooming on his chapped upper lip. He gets into the stance the firebending master had bitterly coached him into all morning long and takes a deep breath.

Firebending, Harry thinks, is actually impossible.

“God, children aren’t even this inept. This is an absolutely basic move. It’s honestly embarrassing that you can’t get it.” Harry’s face first on the ground again as he grinds his teeth together, rubbing aggravatedly at the sore spot forming along his jaw. Everything is overwhelmingly and vastly sore.

After mastering both water and earthbending in a period of a few short months, Harry may have allowed himself to grow overly confident in his abilities. Mastering two of four elements in months rather than years wasn’t an ideal situation, but most of Harry’s life followed that similar train of thought.

He learned water first, as a born waterbender from the Southern Water Tribe, and excelled within its confines from a spectacularly young age. He’d always been a peaceful child, but his ability to lose himself in the tide, to move in the flowing steps of water, had immediately posited him as a force to be reckoned with.

Earth wasn’t too difficult either. Although most would describe the Avatar as flighty, Harry found himself particularly grounded within his earthbending studies. Earth proved to be much more of a challenge than water, it’s tough and stubborn and so distinctly solid, but he came around to it eventually and proved himself masterful in the subject with little issue.

It’s been one week and Harry still can’t wrap his head around the intricacies of firebending. When he’s not training with Louis (which, he is always training with Louis, sun-up to sun-down) he’s studying ancient texts, analyzing scrolls, and practicing stances alone in his room. He hasn’t even had a moment to meditate, never mind work on his other bending techniques, since he’d stepped foot in the Firelord’s palace.

“Can we pause for a moment? ‘M really thirsty.” Harry tries to ensure his voice doesn’t come out in a whine because he’s suffered far worse than the strangely unemotional wrath of a Master Louis, but he knows it carries through. Sweat knots itself in his thick eyebrows drips into his dewy eyes, and he banishes it away with the simple flick of his wrist. As the solstice draws nearer, the days grow insurmountably hotter.

“Do you think that you’ll have a moment to take a drink of water in battle, Harry?” Louis’ voice comes out shrewdly, his eyes narrowing and his nostrils flaring in the only sign of emotion he ever shows, which is rage. Harry cringes a bit at the expression but knows now that when dealing with Louis, one mustn’t show even a drop of fear.

“I know for a fact that you can’t. But Louis-”

“It’s Master,” Louis snaps, and Harry does all he can to not roll his ocean-washed eyes. He rises to his feet, wipes away the dirt decorating his clothing, and pops his hip, resting a hand there. He’s much taller than the firebender, but this does nothing to stifle Louis’ unkempt temper, in fact, it likely fuels it even further. “So far every battle you’ve fought in, you’ve nearly died. You’ve escaped with barely your life after each attempt on it. You need to be more disciplined, or else the next attempt will be the last.” Louis grunts out in a practiced monologue, reminding Harry rather rudely about his past failures. Harry blinks away bleary images of a childhood spent on the run, grounds himself in the present, in the hot stale air.

“There hasn’t been an attempt since we left the Earth Kingdom,” Harry grumbles out insubordinately, his mood souring some, but begins to retake the proper stance in order to continue mastering the basics of firebending. “‘Sides, now I’ve got the greatest security team in the entire world around. No one would dare mess with the Firelord.” He adds just as Louis strikes. The fire singes the Avatar’s hair as he spins away from it, but Louis is relentless. He continues punching fists of flame at the younger boy, grunting accordingly as bursts of bright fire blast towards Harry in moments of unadulterated rage.

Harry does pretty much what he’s been doing all week, and takes it. His clothes are full of ember burned holes, and he’s still not even been able to strike Louis once with fire. He goes down rather unceremoniously, but instead of bouncing back up, he lies there.

“If someone wants to kill you, mate, they will. No frilly title will scare them away. Not a security team in the world strong enough to keep your skinny ass safe.” Louis’s tone is clipped, his retorts always biting, and Harry swallows down the tremble making its way into his voice. He’d dealt with far worse than cantankerous bending masters, far worse than simple threats of his own cowardice.

“The sun is setting,” Harry remarks back, and Louis turns his bitter face towards the west, watching as the sun sinks behind the mountains. He sighs deeply, turns back to his student with a clear grimace splashed across his face.

“I don’t care. We’re doing this until you get it. And just know that the longer you take, the angrier I’ll get. I won’t miss dinner again on your account.” Harry’s stomach grumbles as if in agreement, he’d gone to bed without dinner for the past two evenings. Louis hadn’t allowed him to leave the training ring until he’d perfected his most recently learned moves. The hours spent training with Louis has now superseded the entire day. The wee hours before sunrise until the deep, dormant blue of late-night see Harry pouring every inch of himself, blood and sweat included, into perfecting firebending. If only so he doesn’t have to spend countless hungry hours surrounded only by his own ineptitude and Louis’ constant critical gaze for a moment longer.

Harry has been through much in his life, and he knows that one angry person is completely survivable, it’s something he can bear, he’s taken on entire mobs more ruthless than his slight firebending instructor. But there is something deep in those empty ice eyes that zips down Harry’s spine and settles bitterly in the pit of his stomach. The roar of Harry’s stomach interrupts his spiraling thoughts, and the boy shakes himself back into the present. He’s gone hungry before. He blinks away from childhood memories, steels himself in his stance, in the present.

“I don’t much want to miss dinner either, Master.” The title comes out as an insult, and something flashes in the other’s eyes. Harry gets in position and with a bark of “Again!” Louis is upon him.

***

“I don’t think he much likes me.” Harry spews his thoughts aloud as he practices his firebending stances in the Firelord’s chambers. The royal himself is circling around the Avatar, correcting him gently when necessary, and offering small quips of information when they come to mind. The two have been practically inseparable since the waterbender’s initial arrival. Each evening, once Louis is begrudgingly satisfied and Harry is subsequently set free, it’s common knowledge that he can be found in Zayn’s personal chambers, a feat very few others have ever accomplished.

“That’s just Louis. He doesn’t care for anyone very much. He even snaps at me often and I’m, well..” Zayn trails off with a knowing smirk, adjusting Harry’s elbow and perfecting his stance as he laments, his fingers gentle. Harry remembers the annoyed tone with which Louis had addressed Zayn all those nights ago. “He’s always been like that, ever since I met him. He’s just a few years older than me, but has been living here training me since I was about fifteen.” Zayn adds casually, gesturing for Harry to move on to another movement. “He’s quite literally the best firebender out there. Shame because he’s an extraordinary dick.” Harry guffaws.

“I suppose,” Harry bites at his lip as he continues practicing. There’s something about the unpredictability of fire that’s been making his education feel rather impossible. Fire, unlike any of the other elements, is bred for destruction. It burns everything in its path, crisps it all into unrecognizability, and leaves nothing but charred, scorched emptiness in its wake. Although Harry figures you could make the case of the Phoenix as something bred and born from fire and ash, he doesn’t dwell on it much. Water and Earth bring life, Fire only destroys it.

“He’ll come around to you, eventually,” Zayn’s voice softens a bit, noticing something uncharacteristically dreary in his friend’s voice. Sometimes, in rare, quiet moments, Zayn’s noticed that Harry will all but disappear. That he’ll eventually shudder back to himself, his smile a touch less brilliant, his posture a bit more weighed down.

Although 18, Harry had only been discovered as the Avatar a few mere months ago, rather late in the game. Zayn wasn’t aware of all the details, just remembered the deep sigh of relief and the returned flush to his mother’s cheeks after she had received the news. Although he wasn’t aware of all of the intricacies of why it took so long to discover the brunet, Zayn heard whispers of a childhood drowned in horrors. Of murdered parents and countless kidnapping and assassination attempts. Of dull green eyes lined with bags, of a young prodigy on the run. “Everyone seems to.” Zayn belatedly adds with a smile, and Harry’s returned grin lights up the room brighter than every lantern combined, all thoughts of the Avatar’s earlier life forgotten with it.

They practice for a few more minutes in the quiet, Zayn takes a seat to go over some royal duties or other while Harry controls small bursts of fire through sharp, gasping breaths. Zayn’s brow is furrowed as he’s going over what looks to be some rather official records when the large doors to his chambers fly open rather dramatically. He’s on his feet, positioned a few steps behind the Avatar, who’s already in some water tribe battle stance when Liam’s voice fills the chambers. The latter notes Harry’s immediate urge to protect tucks it away in the corner of his mind.

“Your highness,” He’s breathing deeply, his eyes wild as he marches directly to the two young men. “There’s been another attack.” Two sets of eyes dart over to Harry, whose face has gone slack and his eyes glazed over at the news. It’s as though all of the air has been sucked from the room.

“Any fatalities?” Zayn asks immediately, slipping into complete seriousness without a second thought.

“No, sir. A good deal of injuries though.” Liam replies grimly, back ram-rod straight as he stands by the Firelord’s side. 

“Where, precisely?” Zayn’s eyes are alight with worry, fear for the lives of his people as he drapes a fine cloak over his shoulders and begins walking towards the doors, out of his chambers, and towards where his advisors should be gathering. He hears two sets of footsteps start after him, one significantly more stuttered than the other, but he doesn’t have much time to ponder it.

“Out west. It was an airship warehouse I believe. The damage is reportedly significant.” Zayn bites his lip and curses internally as they make quick work of crossing the grounds towards the more populated areas of the palace. Harry is following silently without really looking where he’s going, lost somewhere in his own head as he so often gets. People sprint by, shouting out orders to one another, bowing hastily at the crowned Firelord as they go about their seemingly rushed business.

The trio burst through the main entryway and the bustling room falls into a stilted quiet, Fire Nation nobles and White Lotus members alike let their eyes bounce along in Zayn’s wake, waiting as he gets to the front of the room and immediately switches on the quaint little radio that is kept there for situations such as these. Harry is distantly aware that Louis is in the room, can feel his grief-stricken eyes bore holes into him.

“Right, let’s listen in,” Zayn commands then as the static fills each corner of the room. “I heard someone got a recording of him this time-” He is cut off by a booming voice bursting through the speaker, alarming every person in attendance. Harry flinches involuntarily.

“I stand before you, in front of the blood-soaked hands of self-proclaimed gods and monsters alike, to prove myself. For I am no great coward, no imposing walls or palace guard stands at my beck and call whenever I appear. I am here as a very testament to the faults of mankind, of the ruling class that so constantly fails us all. The White Lotus got it incorrectly, much as they have throughout their long-storied history. I am the people’s Avatar, I’ve already mastered all four elements, I can bestow great gifts of incalculable bending ability upon any man who asks. With me, the four nations will fall, and instead, we will return to the times in which we were one great nation. Where the delineation between bender and non-bender doesn’t exist, where each and every one of us can be destined for greatness.

“I have provided you yet another example of my mastery over each element, of the specialties that lie within said elements. I am the true Avatar. That weak child the Fire Nation is harboring is a symbol of times past, of ancient practices that must be destroyed in order to rise anew. I will not stop until non-benders are no longer in existence until we are all blessed with the innate abilities of our more powerful brethren. Together, we can be destined for great things.”

The radio cuts off into the panicked bemoaning of a journalist desperately attempting to make sense of what the entire planet has just heard. There’s a second of untempered silence in the great hall, but it is soon swept away into the urgent voices of the Firelord’s men. Zayn’s eyes flick around the room, landing eventually on Harry, who’s staring directly at the table in front of him, sitting stock still with a frown creasing his lips.

“I need to be there.” The Avatar mumbles so quietly that Zayn almost doesn’t catch it at first, but when wet blue eyes meet Zayn’s amber ones, he can’t help but agree.

“First thing tomorrow, I’m going out to survey the damage. I’ll take a small team with me. Liam, of course, his most trusted men, and the Avatar will accompany me. We need to see what we’re dealing with, show that we aren’t going to run and hide from this lunatic.” Zayn’s voice is commanding, causing the room to fall into a restless quiet, as each and every pair of eyes land on him, listening intently as he outlines his haphazard plan. “We also must be strong for our people, go out there and provide shelter to those who’ve lost it, assurances, stimulus, whatever else to keep our people safe and alive. That comes first.” Zayn’s commanding tone leaves little room for disagreement, and his advisors are clearly well-aware of this fact as they blink at him, mouths fluttering open like fish.

“I’m the best healer in the world, so I’ll definitely be needed. I’m with you, mate.” Harry’s voice is a gentle whisper, but it’s reassuring and Zayn appreciates any assistance he can get, especially in the face of all of these old folks who are sure he isn’t quite cut out for the job. Having the Avatar’s approval should practically seal the deal.

“Well, I’ll be coming too, of course.” A grainy voice pipes up from somewhere across the room, and Zayn raises an eyebrow in wait for an explanation. “You’ll need your strongest warriors and I am, of course, the strongest.” It’s Louis of course, which gives Zayn slight pause because Louis never really volunteers to do much of anything. It had been a weeks-long battle to even get him to agree to serve as Harry’s instructor, and that was only due to pent up threats from the Firelord himself.

“I’ll need all the help I can get.” Liam shrugs oddly casually, making eye contact with Zayn who nods slightly in agreement. “You have your armor still?” Louis nods. “Great, meet with me later on, I’d love your input on a few things.” He adds in his boisterous voice, and with a firm nod, Louis sinks back into his seat and disappears into the crowd of advisors, who have begun to jostle like the ever-tumultuous sea. 

Harry has been taking deep breaths, attempting to remain calm, planning on perhaps meditating later in the evening. The voice on the radio, having sent chills up his spine at the outset, memories of darker times attempting to push to the forefront of his mind. He blinks them away, grounds himself through scratching his hands raw, listening to the dissenting voices that have begun to swarm around him.

“It’s settled then,” Zayn’s voice is booming. “Tomorrow at dawn, a small group shall accompany the Avatar and me to the attack site. We’ll come back hopefully with more intel and the ability to share a more full fleshed out strategy of attack with the Earth Kingdom, Air Nomads, and Water Tribes respectively. We must contact Republic City as well, the President should be aware of this.”

“A meeting of world leaders has been scheduled for sometime next week, my lord.” A timid voice breaks from the otherwise rumbling audience and Zayn nods twice, his face etched in seriousness.

“I need to go prepare for battle then. I’m adjourning this meeting for the evening. I’ll call for a more formal one the evening after tomorrow, which is when our party shall return.” With that and a sweep of his intricate cloak, Zayn departs from the room. Liam, as always, is on his heels. The Firelord grabs the bicep of the Avatar on the way out, ushering him along as well, signaling to the other members of the room that there is much more to be discussed.

As the advisors and nobles alike gather their things and chatter nervously amongst themselves, no one spares a passing glance to the young firebending prodigy who had managed to slip out in their sovereign ruler’s wake.

***

“Harry, I’m sorry to put you through this mate, but there’s much more we need to know about this man and, well…” Zayn trails off as he hangs his cloak back on its correct hook. He gestures that they both take a seat on one of the plush couches that decorate the leader’s exorbitant personal chambers, and thus they both do. 

Harry is still buried somewhere within himself, his eyes sinking into the bags that adorn his tired face. He looks weary in a way that no one so young should be able to quantify, nevertheless actually feel. His shoulders sag inwards and his fingers twitch in his lap as if fingering a musical tune only he and the spirits can comprehend. Zayn knows that behind Harry’s charming, schoolboy facade lies something much darker, much more painful, but until today he hadn’t a need to really dig into it.

The older boy waits with bated breaths as Harry opens and closes his mouth a few times, furiously blinking away at something no one else is able to see. The waterbender’s mind blurry with half-baked memories of things he would much rather forget, of things he can’t even really remember anymore. 

It remains quiet like that for a few more endless moments, Zayn exchanges worried glances with Liam, who offers poorly mouthed assurances and sky-high shrugs in response. Harry looks up eventually, his eyes tracing each and every object the room has to offer as if the territory is entirely unfamiliar as his mouth opens to form the beginning of a sentence.

“Thing is, Z, I don’t know much about him at all. ‘Sides the fact that he thinks he’s the true Avatar and wants me dead,” Harry looks at Zayn with pain-flooded eyes and the Firelord does all he can to not cringe away at the scarily intimate offering within them. “He’s tried to have me killed a few times but he himself only showed his face once and, it was looking quite grim for me. I was half-dead, practically, he was there to deliver the final blow but, I’m quite resourceful. Escaped and now I’m here.” Harry goes back to twitching his fingers absentmindedly, staring vacantly at the lush carpeted floors at his feet. “I’m really sorry mate, I just…. I don’t know what he looks like under the mask, I… I don’t even know his name.” He says it ashamedly as if all of this is somehow his own fault as if the fate of the world rests on his two fragile shoulders.

Harry reckons it does.

“It’s okay, H. I figured I’d ask you on my own, no pressure on you or anything. You’re my friend first of course.” Zayn draws a slightly cheeky grin from the boy, and with that approval, he shoulders on. “Are you sure you’ll be okay tomorrow? You don’t really need to come if you don’t think you can handle-”

“No. I’m a healer, I need to be there.” Something flickers in Harry’s sea-sick eyes, and his statement effectively ends the conversation. Zayn’s head bobs up and down in a nod, and Harry excuses himself to his own chambers to prepare for the oncoming journey. He was quite serious when he had made mention of meditating before tomorrow, and there’s only a few short hours until dawn breaks. He pretends to ignore the worry etched deep in the Firelord’s warm eyes.

As he’s exiting the chambers, he bumps directly into someone. An apology is hanging on the tip of his tongue when he finds his eyes boring holes into snowy blues. He schools his face into a neutral expression, barely keeping a frown at bay, and let’s slip a muttered “sorry,” as he attempts to carry on his well un-merry way.

“Training is still on tomorrow.” Louis’s harsh voice echoes through the hallway, and Harry twists his head over his shoulder to throw a questioning glance at the fire-bending Master. “I’m just letting you know that nothing will stand in the way of this. In order to master firebending and to take it right seriously, we’ll continue on with our training on the duration of the journey.” Louis blinks expectantly as if this shouldn’t be news to the younger boy at all. Harry holds back a groan and stares.

“I’ll be healing most of the day tomorrow. Gonna need the grand majority of my energy for that. Healing takes quite a bit of work.” He laughs humorlessly, but Louis’ face is completely impassive, entirely unfazed by the Avatar’s comments.

“You’re the Avatar. You’re supposed to be an endless well of spiritual energy.” He bites back, and as Harry opens his mouth to offer a half-witty retort, Louis turns into the Firelord’s chambers and the door shuts with a resounding clank behind him. Harry grumbles half-heartedly to himself and drags his aching body towards his favorite spot to meditate on the grounds. He figures he won’t get an ounce of sleep, what with his impending sense of doom.

He figures correctly.


	3. Chapter Three

_It’s dark, wherever he is, and uncomfortably familiar. A soul-sucking, Earth-shattering darkness that steals away all of his senses, chews them up and spits them in a congealed heap at his feet. He blinks a few times to adjust to the ever-encroaching darkness, and his stomach drops as he feels the salt-soaked wood beneath him lurching on repeat. He shuffles around a bit and his hands each connect with splinter-inducing wooden slats. Something liquidy and golden attempts to pour into wherever the young boy is being kept._

_Harry, at this moment, does his very best not to panic. He pulls his hands inward, towards his chest, and breathes softly into the damp darkness. He reaches his shaking hands upwards and finds the same wet, wooden material boxing him in. He takes another deep breath, off-handedly ponders if he should be doing more to conserve whatever limited air he has access to, and pulls his small hands back into his chest._

_He takes stock of himself, finds he can’t really maneuver too much in the confined space, and settles on just checking for any pressing injuries on the upper-half of his frame. He’s tender in his ribs, inhales sharply as he presses against bruises there. One of his wrists aches in a way that can’t be good, and a shooting pain radiates from his left knee downwards. The toes on his right foot feel simultaneously swollen and numb, and his fingers must be alight with bright blue bruises. He feels his face then, one eye swollen near-shut, dried blood crusted around his nose, a crack on his hairline oozes blood slowly. He feels more blood and opts to stop looking, because there’s nothing he can really do about it, with no water to heal himself and no access to actual healers who aren’t eight-year-old waterbending prodigies._

_He feels the world tilt beneath him again, and he swallows the spit forming a distinct lump in his throat. He closes his eyes tightly, and just as his mother always insisted, he centers himself, waits for an oceanic calm to overcome him, pushes any painful memories from his aching mind. He reaches out, knows he must be on a boat, can feel the magnetic pull of water surrounding him._

_His captor’s first mistake._

_He allows himself a small grin and focuses, stretching out his arms as much as he can in the confined space, he swirls them through the air. His arms dance in the stale air, fingers and wrists flicking as he begins to hear a commotion on the upper decks._

_With one final burst of energy, he grunts loudly and pushes outward with all of his might, and is greeted with a shoot of water violently tearing him free from his coffin-like prison. He jumps to his feet and begins to hobble, hearing the cries of the crewman as the ship begins its slow descent into the waiting arms of the ocean. With little hesitation, he staggers onto the upper deck, ducks through the panicked legs of fearful crewmen, and dives into the comforts of the open ocean._

_And that is how Harry survives the very first attempt on his life, certainly not the last, and loses everything he had ever known in the process._

***

“Weak. Again.” Harry has heard each of those words enough times this week to last him the rest of his re-incarnated lifetimes. He groans, rubbing at the once-burned portion of his wrist to wipe away any remembrance of the pain that had pulsed there just moments ago. Louis’ flames had again licked rather violently at Harry’s skin, leaving another scarring mark. Harry was beginning to believe that the firebending expert actually enjoyed seeing him in fits of pain.

Harry doesn’t move from his position on the ground, his cheek pressed and creasing against the cool metal floor beneath him. His limbs are splayed out around him, incredibly sore from non-stop training and lack of sleep, he finds his eyelids growing increasingly heavy with every second spent on it’s chilled surface. “Again.” Louis’ voice is firmer this time, but Harry tunes it out. He’s getting sick of this unwarranted abuse.

When he doesn’t move, he hears a series of grumbled curses and quick footsteps. Without a moment to breath, Louis flips the taller boy on his back, leaning above him with a clenched-jawed grimace. There’s a fire in his eyes that Harry almost recognizes, that causes fear to seize his slow-pumping heart.

“I won’t have you defying me, kid.”

“Kid?” Harry shakes the fear from his throat, chuckles humorlessly at the condescension. “I haven’t been a kid for a good long time.” He swallows back countless bruising memories as he stares into the endless pits of his tutor’s steadily darkening eyes.

“Says the kid,” Louis mumbles rather petulantly, gripping the younger boy’s shirt in a fistful at his chest. He pulls him to his feet that way, shoves at him and begins a staged attack. Harry tiredly replicates the attacks, practicing firebending defense positions as well. Louis beats him brutally each and every time. Harry feels the calmness fading from his demeanor, feels something primal licking at the contours of his conscience, something uncontrollable.

Something terrifying.

“I’m done,” He eventually declares, crumpling in an inconsequential heap as Louis stares on with a burning gaze. He’s on Harry’s side in two short steps. The older boy gets in his face, eyes narrowed to slits, breath hot and quick.

“You will continue to fail if you do not take this seriously. You will die due to your own incompetence, I swear it.” Harry groans cartoonishly in response to the thinly-veiled threat, he’s dealt with bullies his entire life, this is nothing new.

“My incompetence hasn’t killed me yet, I don’t think it’s got a murderous streak, either.” Someone chuckles quietly at the response, and Harry grins, feeling coolness pool in his chest, waves washing over him and stripping him clean. 

“I know it’s all a ruse, kid. I know that this whole calm, waterbending prodigy, one-with-nature thing is complete bullshit. There’s something in you, right here,” Louis’ eyes are sharp, beams of cold blue light as he pounds harshly once on Harry’s already-sore chest. The Avatar gasps despite himself, notes a flicker of something else behind Louis’ carefully crafted facade, something distinctly human. Harry swallows his retorts, let’s the man beat on. “Something you’re scared of. You can’t be scared of your own power, Harry. That’s cowardice. Once you accept that, once you embrace whatever beats within you, then and only then can you master firebending.” Louis is growling in Harry’s gasping face, his pupils blown as he sucks the air straight from the younger boy’s lungs. 

There’s a moment where they both stay there, Louis holding Harry up close, not even a centimeter separating their flushed faces. Close.

Too close.

Fear slips through the Avatar’s body, washes over him in a way that it hasn’t since he was a young boy, shatters something fragile in his golden-green gaze. Louis recognizes it and releases his grip hastily, his mouth beginning to open not of his own accord, something desperate bubbling up in his throat and behind his cherry-red lips. 

“Louis, leave the poor lad alone. He’s better at that move than most anyone I know, besides you, and it’s a rather advanced one, at that.” Zayn’s voice is cool and commanding, leaving no room for argument. The moment of intimacy passes between the two, and Louis grumbles at Zayn’s correct comment but doesn’t acknowledge it any further. He rises to his feet, pulling Harry up with surprisingly defined biceps and righting him. The mousy boy opens his mouth to say something probably rude but is thankfully (in Harry’s opinion) interrupted.

“Louis, we’re preparing to land. I’d like a few words before then.” Liam’s proper voice calls out, and with a deep sigh and a mumbled “I suppose,” the firebender is on his way out. 

Harry shakes himself from whatever stupor he had fallen into, watching with veiled curiosity as his instructor’s figure disappears from sight. Ever since the landing party had climbed onto the airship, Louis had been positively drilling the Avatar with firebending attack techniques, blowing up occasionally at the bender’s lack of apparent progress. About halfway through the journey, Zayn, finding himself intensely bored listening to Liam strategize with his troops, had wandered in and stayed. He offered pointers which Harry took gladly as Louis barked for him to shut up.

Harry’s body aches from the non-stop stress it’s been put under for the past… well... His whole life he supposes. He’d never been a great sleeper, what with never really having a roof to rest under, but ever since mastering both water and earthbending in incredibly quick succession, he hadn’t had even a moment to himself. He flexes his fingers a few times and lets his eyes slip shut as he extends his lanky frame out on the metallic floor, doing a few stretches he had been taught helped in limbering up throughout his youth.

“He’s remarkably harsh on you, curly,” Zayn says, extending a hand out to the unmoving Avatar. “I mean, I’ve always known him to be an extraordinary prick but, God,” Zayn pulls the taller boy to stand at his rather staggering height with a grunt, but shoots him a cocky grin as they both stand on semi-wobbly feet. “He really doesn’t like you.” Zayn finishes as the two begin to prepare for the aircraft’s descent, moving towards the center of the ship in order to step right into the chaos.

Zayn is dressed in his own polished, Fire Nation armor, his hair tied up neatly atop his head. Each of his steps comes with an array of shimmering and clanking and echoes loudly through the bustling airship. He looks prepared for battle, and Harry gulps at the prospect.

“I’m aware. Thanks very much, your highness.” They arrive near the ship’s exit, Zayn lets out a sputtering laugh at the retort, and Harry forces his lips into a shaking smile. More of the ship’s party have come to congregate here, beginning to unintentionally circle around the Firelord, awaiting any final words of wisdom he may have. Harry gives the raven-haired boy an affirming nod as the aircraft wheezes upon meeting the ground below.

“It’s sure to be quite busy once we arrive, and odds are we’ll be the first of many leaders to arrive. I’d like to get a look at the damage, to speak with some of the victims, and to try to understand completely what happened here before we begin speaking to anyone else. You all know your assignments, so gather with your groupings and be off. 

"Good luck.” Everyone nods in tandem, bowing their heads to the leader as they shuffle to meet with their pre-assigned landing party sections.

Harry stays firmly planted next to Zayn, who feels at ease with the ocean boy’s calming presence. Liam immediately takes up Zayn’s other side, readjusting his armor a bit and fretting about the Firelord. The trio is then joined by two lower-ranking advisors, one gangly and young, the other stout and old. The fifth component of their group is realized with a bit of grumbling and a sharp glare. Louis stands a bit away, sizing up each of his accomplices and scoffing quietly to himself with whatever discoveries he’s made. 

Harry had been rather annoyed when Zayn had explained why it was pertinent that Louis joins them, but he’d swallowed it down with his breakfast and nodded in tight-lipped understanding. Louis was the most powerful firebender in the world, after all. However, Harry spent every moment of sunlight being ruthlessly bullied by the mousy bender, which had become a bit of a problem. Just as he’s cataloging all the reasons why the young firebending master was such a thorn in his side, Louis grips his arm and pulls him off to the side.

“Remember what I said earlier, curly.” He urges, and there’s something oddly soft edging his otherwise sharp tone. Harry turns his head a bit, looks into the burning blue eyes of the boy to his left, feels a quick burst of heat in his bicep where Louis is still gripping tightly. Something shifts, something important. “I won’t die because you can’t grasp simple techniques.” And with that, the room seems to drop a few degrees as Louis releases the Avatar’s arm as if it’s offensive to him. He moves with purpose away from the confused boy, disappearing into the small crowd of Fire Nation soldiers. Harry blinks a bit, focusing more on the first half of the interaction than the second, when he’s being pulled yet again.

“We’ve landed, mate. Zayn wants you and he to be the first people off the ship. Best get a move on.” Harry nods, rolls his shoulders in a desperate attempt to ease the centuries-old tension that seems to rest there. It doesn’t work, of course, and he feels an odd spike of anxiety blow up in his chest cavity as he moves to stand next to the Firelord. He breathes deeply, screws his eyes shut, and pushes away any unwelcome emotions- which is much harder than it seems. 

The doors billow open, and sunlight pours into the silver-soaked room. Harry squints into the sunlight and follows Zayn’s royal lead as their feet find the charred-black ground below. The Avatar takes the opportunity to look around, his feet moving of their own accord as he battles sunshine-drenched eyes. They’re marching on what obviously was once a field, but is now utterly unrecognizable as such. A crater eats away at half of the land, a searing gash that still eeks smoke into the thick air. Debris and their shadows are etched throughout the surveyable area, great hunks of metal and spots of blood soak the decrepit Earth.

There is great pain here, Harry senses it immediately, feels it soak deep into the marrow of his bones. Medical tents are set up a small ways away from the immediate damage, far enough to avoid sinking into the overwhelming pit, but close enough that the transport of bodies wouldn’t be egregious. The Avatar’s heart aches deeply, pulsates with the pain from the very land, and he wants nothing more than to march over to the tents and begin working.

Zayn seems to sense this and leads their group in that direction. He stops every so often to palm a handful of dried-out Earth, makes small notes to the elder member of their group, who writes them down with vigor. Harry is so intently focused on the tents that he doesn’t seem to notice much else, finds Zayn’s arm a warming presence on the crook of his elbow as he’s guided in the correct direction. Zayn is sturdy, and despite the odds, he thrives in high-pressure situations such as these. It’s his birthright.

“I can’t seem to wrap my head around what could’ve caused damage this extensive,” Zayn finally notes as they close in on the tents. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” He adds coolly, looking at the smoldering hole to the group’s right with furrowed brows.

“It’s greater than any bending power, regardless of the volume of benders. Nothing natural could’ve caused this,” Louis’s voice startles the rest of the group, who had otherwise forgotten of his presence. He’s walking with a determined purpose, eyes unmoving from the lack of land beside them. His voice is semi-hoarse from disuse, his eyes spark with his trademark rage.

“He’s right,” Liam recovers first, begins the landing party’s movement towards the medical area. Harry’s heart sinks deeper into his chest with each step. “This is a weapon, the likes of which we’ve never seen before.” A quiet washes over the quintet and Harry finds himself strangely unable to take his eyes off of his instructor who has quite been firmly stomping by his side all afternoon.

“Make note of it,” Zayn commands. “Right, Harry, your time to shine then.” And with that, they’re entering the medical tent, and Harry stumbles back a little bit at the sheer burst of energy that seems to hit him. The pain has intensified tenfold within the confines of this small room, which is lined wall to wall with miniature healing stations. People of all ages and appearances lie in agony on them, the room is drowned in the sounds of desperate cries. Harry recognizes the marks of three Water Tribe healers, and a handful of other medics from different parts of the world. 

There are too many people here, too much pain. He can hardly stand it, his eyes grow wet without his approval, his body shakes in time to the weeping surrounding them. His feet move of their own fruition, and he finds himself kneeling beside an elderly man with a sluggishly bleeding stump at the end of his right arm. The Avatar says nothing, breathes deeply, summons all of his senses, and hastily gets to work.

“I’m so so sorry,” He murmurs to the man, whose beetle-dark eyes are vacant and glazed over. Bugs swarm around him in the summer heat, waiting until his heart slows to a din to begin their practiced feast. “Let me take the pain away for you.” He adds soothingly, laying the gorey nightmare across his lap. Blood immediately begins soaking into his pants, but he thinks nothing of it as he begins pulling from the jug of water beside him and gets to work.

***

News of Harry’s arrival spreads quickly around the two packed-full medical tents, and everyone is buzzing as he makes his tentative rounds. He locates the critical patients first, pulls from the growingly scarce portion of spirit water another healer had been wise enough to bring along. He treats each person with precision, with professionalism and expertise, wraps each wound with the utmost care, lets bits of his energy flow into each victim until their countenance glows the slightest bit brighter.

He’s spent hours making his rounds, and by the end of it, he’s positively exhausted, a tiredness that rots in his brain and begins to take every portion of him with it. Zayn, Liam, and the two nameless soldiers had departed at some point after speaking softly and reassuringly with each person in the room, there was much other work to do in discovering just what had become of this vacant place. Harry hardly noticed that a certain anger-soaked firebender stood in the tent’s corner, watchful eyes never straying from his (begrudgingly admitted) star pupil.

Harry waves at the little girl who he had worked to heal a few hours prior, and she waves shyly back, a small grin blooming on her cherubic face. She had lost an eye in the attack, and while the site was once gruesome, Harry had patched her up quite exquisitely. She looked rather well all things considered by the time his slender fingers had twitched to a halt. 

Harry smiles back brilliantly, using the last bit of his own water to massage the tension from the elderly woman’s shoulders that he’s working on now. She’d be the last person Harry was to attend to on this journey, and he finds himself a bit giddy at that fact.

He finishes up with the aching gray-haired Fire Nation elder, bows deeply, and rises to his feet. He stretches out his back and looks around the second tent he’s entered, finds it to be much less painful than when he’d entered so long ago. There’s a warmth present now, a quiet chattering fills the candle-lit room and he even hears moments of symphonic laughter.

“Thank you,” The woman clutches at his hand, looking straight into his eyes and smiling softly, her eyes growing wet with each moment. He opens his mouth to rebuke the thanks, to urge her that his existence hinges solely on being of service to all people far and wide when she plows on. “I can’t lie, my boy, after years of waiting for you, I’d lost hope. Then, once they’d found you again, after all of those waterbender’s had been murdered, once they showed your face in all of the paper’s, I couldn’t believe it. That you were so old to be a freshly-discovered avatar.” Harry lets the gentle lilt of the woman’s voice wash over him, looks on with an ever-patient countenance as she delves into some story or other she’s been waiting to spill. He shakes some of the words off, focuses on living in the present, and listens intently. 

“But here you are, now, and I’ve never seen someone look so dreadfully young. You’re strong, Avatar, stronger than is probably good for you. Watch your back, lad. There are dark things afoot.” She ends her oddly ominous speech with a pat on his cheek and a stretched-thin smile before turning over to presumably get some rest. Harry nods solemnly, whispers a gentle “thank you” before turning towards the tent’s entrance.

It’s grown much quieter inside, as people are trucked back towards their respective villages and homes, to be reunited with worry-sick loved ones. Only a few spaces remain populated with cleaned up victims who now rest sweetly. The pained feeling that had been dripping its way down Harry’s spinal column and throughout all of his nerves had slowed to a distant ache. He cracks his neck and entered into the razor dark night. 

The air had cooled significantly, and the only source of light billowed from torches, candles, and the twitching hands of firebenders. Harry mirrors his compatriots as a ball of golden warmth burst to life in the palm of his hand, heating up the rest of his surprisingly chilled skin with it. He takes a few more steps towards where the airship is sat and hears the quiet footfalls of someone falling into perfect line with his own stumbling footsteps, hears the telltale armor, and lets his mouth crease into a bit of a frown.

“Can’t train tonight, Louis. ‘M so tired I can hardly walk.” He moans out before the other can get a word in, and he hears the slow, reassuring beat of a warm heart beside him. Something he had figured the firebender was sorely lacking. The silence beats on for a bit, as the pathway back to rest becomes more sparsely populated until it’s practically just the two of them and the comforting gusts of night-air wind.

“Was gonna give you the night off, actually,” Louis’ admonition comes out with a sniffle of air, and Harry turns incredulously to look at the shorter boy, who seems to be focusing very intently on ensuring his cerulean gaze is on anything but the Avatar. “You were quite good in there. It’s reassuring to know you’re not a total waste of space when it comes to bending.” He adds as an afterthought, and despite it all, a blossom of warmth blooms in Harry’s chest, forcing a bark of laughter from his throat. He can’t be sure, but Harry thinks a small grin has painted itself on the soldier’s face.

He’s about to open his mouth to say as much, to bask in the joy that such a small sign of affection brings when something shifts. Harry pauses in his tracks, feels the weight of the world tip until it’s seemingly entirely off-kilter. He stumbles a bit, hears a screeching chant reverberating through his eardrums, feels his heart rate pick up impossibly fast. A hand grips his forearm, keeping him steady, but he hardly has time to notice that as his eyes bore into those of the man beside him.

“They’re here.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for:  
> graphic depictions of violence  
> mentions of blood (idk people bleed and I describe that in some detail)  
> gore (just descriptions of some fairly gruesome injuries)  
> and as usual.... gay shit
> 
> enjoy! if these tags are too much for you just scroll to the comments at the bottom and ill put a tldr

“That’s rather cryptic. What the hell do you mean?” Louis is straight back to business, the oddly tender moment shared between the two gone in an instant. He’s looking at the taller boy with coal fire eyes, ignoring the odd pang he feels in his chest when he sees the unruly fear in Harry’s unwavering gaze.

And Louis’ never, in all of his years and all his memories, seen fear like that. Bone-chilling, goose-bumps inducing, voice-pillaging fear billows across Harry’s usually enragingly calm and gentle aura. Louis notes that the Avatar is actually shaking, like a leaf, staring at Louis in mouth-gaping terror. But the soldier doesn’t have time to parse through whatever uncomfortable feelings he’s having towards his pupil, because he’s making Louis feel quite nervous as well.

“For Christ’s sake. What the hell is happening, kid?” Louis grasps at the other boy’s biceps and is startled when he jumps about one thousand feet in the air, landing back on his feet with an earthquaking thud.

“T-them. I don’t know… _shit_ … the ones from the radio. They’re _here_.” Harry’s voice is pleading, his eyes reflecting a million memories that he’s worked so hard, so _fruitlessly_ to keep at bay. He snaps to attention for a moment, looking somewhere past Louis, muttering a terrified, “ _Zayn_ ” before taking off into the night. Louis’ about to shout a string of curses at his back when he hears the gut-wrenching screech of metal across metal coming from the direction that Harry just left in, followed by a few surprised cries.

The lanterns begin to go out, the torches and candles following in quick succession. Chaos is beginning to ensue; firebenders shoot flames from their calloused fingertips as swordsmen unsheathe their weapons under the cool cover of darkness, all assuming their battle positions.

Louis hears the sounds of battle before he sees anything, the grunting and groaning of soldiers in action meets his ears. He sees bursts of flame somewhere up ahead of him, sees stilted flashes of warriors entrenched in war with an invisible enemy, brief black and white polaroid moments of warriors in battles to the death. He stands still for a few more moments, gathers his fire-tinted surroundings, when he hears the swoosh-ing of water somewhere at his side. He turns quickly, sees Harry’s face suddenly aglow with twin bursts of flame, and without a second thought he takes off after him, his heart unhelpfully pounding to the beat of his own frantic footsteps.

He keeps his fire-lit hand thrust ahead of him, using it as its own torch as he sprints towards the Avatar. He ducks and dodges through other ongoing fights, lends his hand once or twice when necessary, but never stops in pursuit of the soon-to-be master of all four elements.

The enemy is covered head-to-toe in black cloth, even their eyes are shrouded in pitch-black goggles, making them the perfect sneak-attack weapons. Louis has no idea how many there are, but he does know that there’s seemingly only firebenders and swordsmen among them, much like a mirror of the forces Zayn himself had brought to the warfront. He doesn’t have much time to further investigate this fact as a sharp cry and that repeated distant screeching of metal on metal brings him careening back to Earth.

He sees Harry again in a burst of fire, sees blood dripping down his face, and sets his jaw, teeth clenched tightly. Without a moment’s hesitation, he dives into the chaos of the fight, an uneven one that has seemingly pitted Harry against at least five attackers. Louis dips into the unending pool of anger crushing within his chest and makes quick work of assisting the Avatar as he can. He squares his hips, settles his feet firmly on the ground and evens out his chest. He sees three darkly clothed figures turn towards him and he cracks his neck. As they begin to approach, he crouches down, punches two fists of flame in their direction. Great balls of fire form as he exhales powerfully, forcing one of the trio to a fiery halt.

The other two don’t seem quite thrilled by the loss of a friend, because they break into a dead sprint to approach the firebending master. He takes three bounding leaps forwards, inhales deeply, and launches himself horizontally into the air. He spins twice, his fists spurting out great gusts of flames at his side, and lands soundly on his feet.

One challenger remains.

He lets out two great puffs of air, settles his stance so he’s mirroring that of the attacker, who subsequently shoots two long strings of fire in Louis’ direction. He finds himself smirking a bit unwillingly, because it’s a childish move and a rookie mistake, one not even Harry would make. Louis reaches his hands outwards, palms warming from the incoming heat. Right as the flames are about to lick his skin, He pulls his arms simultaneously inwards and upwards, forcing the two strips of flames to grow into great walls of fire, boxing the duo in.

He sees his attacker look around in fear, but Louis’ fire burns impenetrably, rises incalculably higher with each breath he sucks in. He closes the gap between them in a few short strides, collects the other’s shirt in his calloused hands, and pulls forwards so their faces are mere inches apart. He twists his expression into a grimace, looks down with fire-reflected eyes.

“Who sent you?” He growls out, the heat of the fire closing in ever so slightly on his command. He’s lighting up practically the entire attack-zone with this outrageous display of power. There’s a short second where it seems the clothe-clad assassin is going to say nothing, but Louis shoves a handful of fire as close to their face as he dares, frown deepening as he does. “I’m not afraid to kill you, mate. I suggest you get talking if you value your life.” Another pause.

“I don’t know.” The voice, Louis discovers, sounds almost overwhelmingly tired. Something rests within its confines that seems almost ancient, and Louis furrows his brow at that.

“Fine. What a cowardly way to die.” Louis draws his hand even closer, so the tips of the dark hat they’ve got on singes a bit.

“Wait! Wait! No! I swear! I don’t know!” Louis isn’t surprised by the tears, by the begging. “He wouldn’t tell us his name. Look, would you believe me if I told you that just a week ago, I had no bending abilities whatsoever?” Louis barks out a laugh at that. “No, no! I swear! This dude is no joke. I’ve heard him on the radio but… he’s the real deal man. I swear!” Louis is about to question the guy further, when the chaos outside of his self-made bubble breaks through the roaring of the flames.

“Harry NO!” He hears a remarkably familiar voice scream, followed immediately by an unearthly crunching sound and a desperate whimper. He looks at the goggle-covered eyes of the perpetrator in front of him, rips them off, and finds himself staring into chocolate-coated smile lines. The person looks young, no older than himself at the very least. He takes a moment to commit this childish face to memory, eyes scraping over every blemish and contour decorating their countenance.

He drops the child, the walls of flame fall, and he takes a moment to get his bearings.

A little ways away from him lies the crumpled figure of Liam, blood dripping sluggishly from a wound on his head. He sees two retreating figures dressed in Fire Nation robes hauling off a semi-struggling Zayn in the distance, and a few other bodies seem to be in a similar state of Liam’s. Louis notices that their chests are all rising and falling, even if only minutely. He counts it as a small victory and turns to look at the chaotic sight directly ahead.

In front of him is a figure, swathed in ornate, polished armor unlike anything he’d ever seen. There’s no specific markings and stylings that would make it distinguishable to any one certain area of the world. The rest of the figure is clothed in the same black as the remainder of the attackers, but he, instead of goggles, wears a silver-plated mask to disguise his features. His armor looks relatively untouched, but Louis notices a few rips in the clothing he wears beneath it. He then also notices that different portions of armor and the attacker’s limbs alike are encased in a combination of ice and rock.

The armor-clad attacker is looking downwards, and Louis quickly follows his gaze. There, beneath the leader’s iron-encased left foot, lies Harry. The foot rests soundly and securely on the middle of his chest, which is desperately looking to suck in any air it can get. Both of his arms are extended upwards, keeping the man at bay as best he can. Louis notices a few bleeding gashes on the boy, sees the black and blue bruises beginning to kiss at the exposed parts of his skin. The firebending master recalls how deeply exhausted the Avatar had looked after spending countless hours expending energy on healing, knows that can only mean this attack was calculated, planned, a _trap_.

He sees him now, a determined look etched into his countenance, his brows furrowed and his hair matted and crusted with blood. Both of his arms are fighting desperately, somehow both bending and clawing at the armor-encrusted arms above him. He’s shooting a beam of icy water at the man, who sees to be repelling it back to him with ease. A waterbender, then? Harry struggles every so often under the unmoving grip, and Louis recalls the fear-frozen kid from just a few moments ago.

He sees red.

Louis leaps into action, shoots two powerful bursts of fire in the form of punches at the attacker. He startles a bit when the man repels one of the blasts with a stiff flick of the wrist. Louis is stunned for a moment, noting that this man had definitely just exhibited proficiency in both fire and waterbending. This is not natural, this cannot be real, this is the man from the radio. And Louis finds a sharp stab of fear crack through his sternum, puncture his lungs and pull the air from them, because this should be impossible. There’s only one Avatar, this man _was lying_ on the radio. It simply cannot be.

Louis bites back against the fear, tucks it into his brain to bring up to Zayn after he survives whatever is due to come, rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck, continuing on with the fire punches as he goes. He singes at the man’s clothing, and without another thought he breaks into a sprint. The attacking warrior straightens at the sound, and in a swift movement reaches down, grabs the Avatar by the shoulders, and quite literally tosses him through the air. There’s the crash of limbs on Earth and a few following thuds as Louis barrels into the monster, tackling him to the ground and skidding in the charcoal-charred dirt beneath.

“That was rather rude,” He hears from beneath him, as he continues to bombard the warrior with fists of flame. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be so overprotective of the boy, Louis, so outwardly enamored. Especially not after the last time this protective streak raised its face to the sun.” And what can Louis do but freeze at that, his eyes opening wide against his greatest wishes. A montage of dark memories float mercilessly behind his eyes, thrust him back into the dark chill of a life previously lived, one he had worked so hard to push away. He blinks a few times, standing above the fighter below him, leg taking a short break from stomping down on his chest repeatedly.

An overwhelming array of feelings bleed from his brain directly to his heart, the dark world becomes invisible in flashing lights of outlandish emotions. Silly, frail things Louis had deigned not to experience at least for the rest of this life, perhaps all of his others. He feels something aching desperately in the deepest crevices of his very being, preparing himself as he did so many years prior, to slip into the unruly patterns of the empty winds.

Then, he hears a croaking yelp, from somewhere behind him, somewhere on the edge of the crater, and he knows that he cannot give up yet again. Knows that something brilliant and prodigic waits gently at the cusp of his future. So he forces the feelings back, all of them aside from his own signature, and lets himself become awash with boisterous red rage.

“Haven’t the foggiest as to what you’re on about. Besides, I’m not quite here for a chat.” He stomps again then, twice, and quite mercilessly at that. With a throat-scratching growl, he raises his fists towards the sky, balls his fingers into tight blue weapons, and then thrusts them towards the man at his feet, billows great bolts of lightning into his already-fluttering chest. The figure takes in ever-deepening gasps of air, and Louis is a bit annoyed to find him still breathing.

“Listen, boy. I know when I’ve been beat. You can have this round.” Louis scoffs at the retort, seeing as how he has the entire upper hand. Just as he’s about to say as much, a rattling cough sounds off behind him. He cringes a bit at the noise, makes a noticeable enough change in positioning that the man beneath him rumbles out a laugh. Louis stands guard between the crater and the monster. “Always the fool, Louis.” He chuckles cryptically, and before Louis can say anything else, the man punches Louis in the stomach, something sparking at the impact, and rises to his feet.

“That boy will die by my hand. There’s nothing you can do to stop it. It is fated, it is my destiny.” The warrior gestures to the darkness behind Louis, and Louis shakes any spare emotion from his entire being, spinning into a kick and shooting great bursts of flame at the enemy, who stumbles back accordingly.

“Destiny’s shit anyways.” Louis mumbles out, taking two bounding steps, arms engulfed in flame up to his elbows as he faces the nameless attacker; who turns on his heel and disappears into the inky darkness.

Louis grumbles furiously at the sheer cowardice, is about to take off in a dead sprint, when he hears another round of pitiful coughs from behind him. Against his own wishes, he turns fully until he is squinting towards the voidless blackness of the crater. He hears the fading footsteps of the enemy in the smoky darkness ahead, hears the clamoring of armor falling and rising with the endless ebb and flow of small battles. Every instinct he has is screeching for him to _run_ to _chase_ to _follow_ to _fight_ , but something deeper within him holds his feet concretely in their position on the Earth beneath.

For the first time in a long time, Louis hesitates.

“ _Shit_!” A garbled cry echoes through the empty basin that cuts deeply into the Earth’s crust, and the firebending master runs over to the cliff’s sharp edge. His fists stay alight, providing the ability to see in the unkempt darkness. He peers over the edge, shoving his hand ahead of him, and is greeted with another gasping and semi-swallowed back cry.

There, at the Earth’s fold, is the Avatar. He’s hanging onto the cliff’s peak with one bone-white grip, his other arm hanging at his side. His teeth are gritted, and hot red blood drenches a good portion of his bruised face. He’s too weak to do much of anything, a testament being how his other arm seems to desperately be moving to pull some earthbending move or other.

Louis crouches down, reaches his unlit hand out with a wide-opened palm, wraps it securely around the boy’s veiny forearm. Harry’s eyes shoot up at the contact, squinting into the onslaught of bright light. Louis makes direct eye contact, sees seafoam eyes looking back at him brokenly, pleadingly. And something stutters in Louis’ heart.

“I’ve got you,” His voice comes out whisper-soft as he looks into the younger boy’s glowing eyes. Harry gulps, nods vaguely in response. “I’m going to reach for your other hand, we’ll pull you up, then.”

“Together,” His voice is a croak.

“Together.” Louis affirms, and the world is plunged yet again into starless blackness. Louis reaches down, fumbles a bit as he blindly gropes for Harry’s blood-soaked fingers. They connect and Louis finds himself gripping extraordinarily tight to offset the slick stickiness. He grunts, feels Harry steeling himself to the best of his ability on the cliff face, and pulls with all of his might.

He overshoots.

They land in a tumbling heap, Louis’ toned arms wrap themselves tightly around the Avatar’s middle. They spin in the dirt a bit, but stutter to an eventual stop, with Harry a limp doll in his rugged grasp. They stay there for a moment, chests heaving against each other and dirt forming a faux protective barricade around them. Harry’s head knocks against the nook of his neck, and Louis closes his eyes to recover from the moment, one arm unconsciously rising to knot itself in Harry’s chocolate coils.

“You’re alright, kid. I’ve got you.” He reaffirms, and Harry whispers something into the soft skin of his shoulder. It’s probably best that he can’t make it out.

“HARRY!” A desperate plea, a prayer leaves the lips of an ally and penetrates the cloudy fortress the two are currently inhabiting. Louis squeezes his eyes shut once more, basks in the moment and all of the questionable emotions that come with it. Another cry of the Avatar’s name permeates the stale air, and he begins to juggle the awkward endeavor of rising to his feet with Harry half-unconscious atop him.

After a bit of maneuvering, the two are on their feet, with Harry leaning much of his lanky frame on his instructor’s narrow shoulders, and Louis’ arm still a secure fixture around the taller boy’s waist. Louis turns to look at the blood-crusted kid on his shoulder, gets an eyeful of swollen shut eyes and gashes seeping candy-red blood, and before anything else can flicker in the pit of his stomach, shoot excitedly across his nerves, the cavalry is upon them.

“Harry!” Zayn is sprinting towards them, his armor torn to shreds and a deep cut lining his cheekbone. He moves with a bit of a limp as he comes to a startled stop in front of the duo, his contoured fingers reaching out to push the stray hairs from the Avatar’s eyes. Liam struggles to his feet somewhere in the distance, stumbles after Zayn without a second thought “Oh, _Harry_.”

“‘M fine. Les’ g’home.” Harry slurs back, a bubble of blood dribbles down his sculpted chin. Louis turns to Zayn then.

“You heard the Avatar, mate.” His voice is holding something back, and his eyes meet Zayn’s for a quick assurance of ‘ _we’ll talk later_ ’ to which the Firelord nods back pointedly.

“Right.” He answers nervously, comes to drape Harry’s other arms over his own toned shoulders. Together, the three of them shamble off towards the airship, an exhausted aura overtaking the journey, a questionable future lining the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TLDR:
> 
> the villain, a masked individual who seemingly possesses the same quad-bending powers as the Avatar, is finally realized. an ambush is staged at the attack site, and Louis is finally able to showcase his rather impressive firebending skills. in doing so, Louis discovers something rather interesting and also mildly terrifying: the attackers (or at least the one being threatened by Louis) reveal that their firebending skills have been recently bestowed upon them by the masked figure, and that just a week prior they existed solely as nonbenders. although Louis wants more information, he hears the sounds of a losing battle and scrambles to Harry's aid, where the mild-mannered Avatar is engaging in a losing fight against the masked villain. Louis exchanges blows with the figure, lets his emotions get the best of him when it's clear that this person has an alarmingly intimate knowledge of Louis' past, and is forced to allow him to escape in order to save Harry's life. the chapter ends with a frazzled Zayn and a weary Louis hauling a half-dead Harry back to the ships and onwards towards home.
> 
> that's basically what occurs, feel free to let me know if i missed any important details. kudos, comments, bookmarks and the whole nine-yards are always appreciated. cheers lads xx.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> absolutely did not edit this so good luck folks......

The days following the attack come in flashes and fades. Harry spends much of out of consciousness, buried deep in the medic’s chambers. Zayn had taken in all of the best healers in the lands, and they’d been attempting to work nonstop on the troubled boy. Much to everyone’s chagrin, however, Harry had spent most of his conscious time arguing that he needed time to heal himself spiritually, and speeding up his physical healing process would only inhibit that. Louis, of course, had adamantly argued that he had found his pupil half-dead and no one magically recovered from death without the assistance of healers.

It was a comically ongoing battle. Any moment of closeness between the two on that battle field was tucked away in the folds of their respective brains. 

“He’s an idiot, you know? Who in their right mind would reject the assistance of the greatest healers on the planet? How prideful do you have to be? I mean, seriously, if you had seen him hanging off of that edge, you’d be as mad as I am. He’s such an unbelievable prick. I can’t even _fathom_ how any of you can _stand_ his….” Louis trails off when he sees the half-hidden smirk on the Firelord’s face. Zayn peaks at the brunet over wire-framed glasses, his mouth curved up slightly at its edges. “What?” Louis demands, incensed by the condescending look.

“Nothing.” Zayn shrugs, going back to scribbling away at the scrolls in front of him, the smirk still painting his warm face. Louis, who hasn’t had a good fight since his last visit to the infirmary with Harry a few days prior, doesn’t take the answer at face value. He rises to his feet abruptly, shuffles a few pieces of paper around for dramatic effect.

“No.”

“No?”

“You’re sayin’ nothing but you don’t _mean_ nothing,” Louis elaborates, arms crossed as he looks at the Firelord with his own fire burning in his gaze. “Go on.” He insists, and Zayn poorly attempts to stifle a sharp flood of musical laughter. Louis narrows his gaze harshly.

“Christ, you could kill with that stare. Anyone ever told you that?” He responds, not unkindly.

“I have killed with it. Don’t avoid the question, _majesty_.” Louis barks back, and Zayn cackles a bit despite himself and pushes away the papers near him across the antique-looking desk that separates the duo.

“So dramatic, mate. I just think it’s funny that you act so… exasperated with the guy but nearly every sentence that slips out of your mouth revolves around him.” 

Louis sputters in protest at the admonition, his face flaming bright red. He doesn’t even want to entertain the childish topic of conversation, there’s a war raging on.

“He’s annoying. I don’t like him. I don’t know what you’re on about.” His voice comes out in a flat breeze.

“I’m just saying,” Zayn readjusts his glasses once more. “That if the guy occupies a good portion of your mind for every moment of your life....” He trails off, waving his hands around his head goofily. He laughs at whatever outlandish expression flashes across the shorter boy’s face, and as Louis opens his mouth probably to release a string of curses, the door bursts open.

“Zayn,” It’s Liam, and his face is remarkably serious. A small bandage rests on his hairline and a bruise along his jaw has faded to an oozing green.

“Is it Harry?” The words slip from Louis’ lips before he’s even thought them. He hears Zayn cackle soundly behind him.

“No…” Liam’s brow furrows a bit, which only causes Zayn to succumb further to the bubbling laughter babbling from the brook of his throat. Louis states daggers at the royal and then turns his attention quickly back to the head of security, chin tilted upwards and arms crossed. “Well, sort of, I suppose. Anyways, someone’s demanding entrance at the gates. He won’t leave, he’s just been asking for you and Harry on a frankly annoyingly repetitive loop.” Liam says, and both Zayn and Louis immediately meet the swordsman at the door.

“I’m assuming he’s not a threat?” Zayn responds, not even a hint of the room’s previous humor left within him.

“Not at all. Probably the opposite. Harry’s actually already out there chatting away-”

“What?” Louis and Zayn chorus at once, looking at Liam with incredulous eyes. The third man stumbles back a bit under the twin glares, looks between the two confusedly.

“He’s on _mandatory bedrest_ you idiot.” Louis says through gritted teeth, pushing past Liam and marching directly towards the palace’s gates, which suddenly seem unbearably far away. Zayn and Liam are having a hushed conversation on his heels, but he doesn’t even feel curious enough to attempt to eavesdrop, his mind only picturing Harry’s bloodied face as he picks up the pace.

They enter into the harsh summer sunlight, the solstice still fast approaching which is obviously reflected in the scalding dry-heat. A sharp shriek splits the air, and Louis breaks into a dead sprint towards the ever-looping, iron-encrusted gates that stand much more as decor than any form of protection, his heart clawing desperately to burst through his ribcage.

Louis is more of a firebend first, ask questions later type of guy, which is why his hands are ablaze just as one crouched curly-head comes into view. He raises his right hand, prepared to shoot flames of fire at whatever is drawing that noise from his still-harmed pupil, when the boy in question turns to Louis with a face-splitting grin and a wave of musical laughter rolling off of his tongue. The firebending master slows to a jog, his face morphing into a scowl as another brightly lit face pops into view.

“Louis!” Harry’s voice is surprisingly chipper as he addresses the older boy, seeing as how their last instance of communication had resulted in Louis being forcibly removed by Liam. Louis raises a bored eyebrow and comes to a stop in front of the duo and the sizable mass of fur that waits sluggishly to their right.

“You’re on bedrest.” Louis responds shortly, his voice coming out in a short puff of air. Harry rolls his eyes at that, and Louis begrudgingly admits that the boy does look quite better. His left eye is rimmed in midnight purple bruises, and his lip is split from nostril to chin. A long, angry gash spreads from over his right eyelid and slopes halfway down his sharp cheekbone, but all of these mild blush reds are a significant improvement over the once bloody corpse he had appeared to be. Louis feels a twinge of something at the memory of the broken boy crying softly into his neck, of Harry lying half-dead in the air ship, of his fellow warriors taking him by the shoulders and shoving him from the room as Harry’s life hung in the very balance. He shakes the disturbing thoughts away.

“I’ve _been_ on bed rest. Besides, I thought it quite important to introduce myself to my new airbending master.” And it is only then that Louis remembers there’s another person here. He blinks a few times at Harry’s address, and turns to face the literal _ray of sunshine_ with an arm wound firmly around _his_ pupil’s shoulders. Something bursts in Louis’ chest, he swallows it down bitterly.

“You haven’t even come _close_ to mastering firebending-”

“Ay, that’s alright. I’m quite comfortable waitin’ it out. Just thought I’d make my services apparent.” The boy who has cut Louis off is nothing if not downright bubbly. He’s wearing an ear-reaching, electronically pulsing grin that devours his two bright eyes. The portions of his arms that are visible are painted with delicate blue arrows, signaling that this boy is, in fact, a master.   
The peak of a rather large matching arrow juts out of his blindingly blond hairline, and he’s already got the hand that isn’t wrapped quite snugly around the Avatar’s shoulders extended towards Louis. “I’m Niall, by the way.”

“You’ve got hair.” Louis responds with a sniff, pointedly not shaking the other boy’s hand. The other boy…. Who is dissolving into a fit of giggles that seem to harmonize just perfectly with the other great nuisance of Louis’ life. The firebender narrows his eyes.

“Quite observant. Yeah, I’ve got hair. Don’t make quite an attractive bald guy so…” And there must be more to that story, but it seems that Niall isn’t quite keen on offering it. Louis just shrugs, half-heartedly, turning to glare pointedly at Harry, whose face is alight with warm laughter.

“Well, if you’re not on bedrest, and seeing how you’ve got masters lining up at the door for ya, I suggest we get on with your training immediately. I’ve things to do besides wait for your sorry arse to understand firebending, you know.” Louis snips, and the gleam in Harry’s countenance fades away surely. Louis pretends not to notice as the boy turns his oceanic gaze fully on him. “Tomorrow morning, training resumes. I’ll see you before sunrise.” He nods curtly and turns on his heel, marching straight the way he came, bumping Zayn’s shoulder haughtily as he goes.

He is played out by the sound of the Firelord’s tinkling laughter, and the boisterous aura of the newcomer. He scowls intensely. 

***

“So, what’s the spirit world like for you, then?” Niall plucks a question from his brain in continuation of his seemingly ceaselessly curious attitude. Harry doesn’t quite mind the assault of inquiries, finds the bouncing blond at his side to be quite a refreshing change of pace from the rather stoic and scowling collection of Fire Nation members he’s recently surrounded by. He smiles as he attempts to match Niall’s pace, because it feels quite like the airbender is the one giving the tour rather than receiving it.

“Um… I don’t really have the words to describe it. ‘S… spirit-y, I suppose,” The Avatar settles on, and Niall nods in understanding.

“Yeah I get that, mate. I meditate quite a lot but I reckon each of our respective escapades into the spirit world are rather different.” Niall explains as he smiles at the pond of turtle-ducks they’re passing by. Harry nods along to Niall’s jaunty tone of voice, attempting to mask the extended tiredness that’s raking it’s way through his body. He hadn’t moved much in the past few days, and so much walking was doing a number on his aching limbs. Talking to Niall, however, had been nothing short of a treat for the wounded Avatar. For most of his life, Harry'd had no one around to understand the spiritual intricacies that plague the Avatar title, but Niall seems to know _everything_ about the spirit world, and Harry can't help but drink it in. The boy understands him on a level no one else could possibly be able to, and that fact along with his wildly comforting aura make it hard for Harry to even _consider_ leaving his side.

He groans inwardly, recalls that he has training tomorrow. There’s no way he’ll be fit for it, but watching Niall showcase bits of airbending has made him all the more eager to graduate from fire to air. That and the impending and constant threat of death.

Ever since what the radio has now dubbed “The Moonless Attack,” the shadowy figure who’d been haunting Harry for most of his life had continued to harass him via the airwaves. The radio had been hijacked twice in the past week, both times overrun with recruitment sort of advertisements on why Harry must be destroyed and how he is the pillar of a past no longer relevant and yadda yadda yadda. Zayn had all but forbidden Harry from leaving the palace grounds, urging him to take his time to heal. Liam would sneak in every so often to give him updates on the other’s who were injured- who Harry was _expressly forbidden_ from attempting to heal by a certain firebending master because _“other healers exist Harry, goddammit, you were banging on death’s door just a few days ago.”_

Liam was the only man who seemed willing to defy Zayn’s rule, which Harry reckoned had something to do with the way the Firelord’s gaze practically melted whenever he was caught looking at his head of security. Thus, Liam came to Harry’s side repeatedly to keep him updated on the terrorist groups movements and whereabouts, reporting grimly that Harry needed to master firebending quite quickly once he was cleared.

But he was _never_ going to be cleared at this rate because every time he so much as mumbled in his sleep, Louis was striding in and _demanding_ his bedrest be extended yet another day, and whenever Harry looked for the melted auburn of Zayn’s eyes, he found that the Firelord was on his tutor’s side. Harry figured this was just another way for Louis to torture him even in this weakened state, and when he expressed as much the shorter man had huffed loudly and proclaimed that _“you can’t really teach an idiot who’s dead.”_

“Harry?” Niall’s brogue knocks the Avatar from within the confines of his mind, and he turns to the blond with a sugary smile. “Sorry mate, I was just wondering when dinner’ll be. ‘M practically starving.” The airbender bemoans, one hand rubbing at his scrawny stomach for good measure. Harry laughs good naturedly, sees the sun fading into spurts of stars on the horizon, and sets his hand aflame.

“We can head to the dining pavilion right now, actually.”

“ _Pavillion_. God, these people are something else,” Niall laments through a cackle, following Harry’s lead towards wherever the food may be. “You said they had vegetarian options, right?” Niall adds, which is punctuated by a whimsical bubbling sound from the airbender’s stomach, sending both young men into fits of giggles that keep them quite well occupied until they crest the hill to the small valley of the palace in which the pavilion sits. Harry turns a knowing smile on his new friend, sees the twinkle in the boy’s eyes. Just a short month ago, Harry had had the exact same thoughts.

“I know,” Harry chortles, and the two embark again on their journey, stomach’s rumbling in unison. They enter the pavilion and grab heaping plates of food, Niall stepping back as Harry explains everything with an expert sort of ease. They then stumble their way through the room, Harry’s stopped quite often to chat with a host of Royals, Advisors, and Staff alike, which Niall groans about incessantly, laughter edging his voice.

Finally, they find themselves at the Firelord’s table, and Harry sits immediately at the raven-haired boy’s right hand side, Liam on Zayn’s other. Niall takes a tentative seat next to Harry, looking around with warmly curious eyes.

“Niall, I’m quite sorry I haven’t been able to escort you around the grounds today. I hope Harry’s been a conscientious host in my stead?” Zayn picks at his food daintily, like someone who is rather used to being under constant surveillance. He turns to look at Niall from the corners of his honey-warm eyes, and the airbender feels a wave of calm akin to Harry’s presence wash across him.

“No worries, sir. Harry’s a good bloke. Beautiful place you’ve got here, never seen anythin’ quite like it. Can’t wait to get a look at the stables later on, then I’ll check out my trainin’ quarters ‘n all that.” Niall speaks in one great gust of words, his accent lilting and energetic somehow at the same exact time. Harry nods along as he shoves food into his mouth with reckless abandon, his eating habits a lasting imprint of his rather dreary past.

“Thank you,” Zayn responds genuinely. “I’m excited to have a real airbending master staying with us. I’ve never really interacted very much with airbenders, on account of you lot having no real governmental situation. Nothing wrong with that of course, it’s just nice to be able to continue to learn as I grow.” He adds as he continues to pick at his meal. Harry’s well on his way to a second helping and Niall’s mouth is opened in a perfect “o” when Louis drops his tray rather aggressively at the seat across from the Avatar.

The boy in question jumps at the sudden loud noise, swallows the bite he’d been about to work on whole, and looks up to shoot an unimpressed look at the already-scowling firebending situated before him.

“Louis,” Zayn greets with a smirk. Louis shoots a glare in response, drops down and begins to eat without any more interaction. Following a moment of halted silence, Liam brings up the topic of something called “Professional Bending,” which has the table of five in heated discussion without a moment’s hesitation.

The rest of the dinner passes nicely. The soft glow of lanterns casts tired shadows across everyone’s faces, and they each (aside from Louis, of course) share a moment of raucous laughter as Harry goes in on his third helping, which Zayn had provided insistently. Niall was like the missing piece of a puzzle they didn’t know they had belonged to, he matched with each of their rather overwhelmingly different personalities quite perfectly, made for an exquisite fit in their slowly-forming tight-knit group.

Niall’s just finished a story on his first poor attempts at flying bison racing when Louis shreds into the joyful conversation venomously. “Harry, you need to go to bed.” The group falls to a hush at that, just seeming to notice that they’re the last people still sitting in the impressively large area. Harry’s eyes dart from Zayn’s raised brows to Louis’ furrowed ones a few times over as he attempts to get his bearings. He hasn’t eaten like that in quite some time, after all of these months still isn’t used to the almost uncomfortable feeling of being full (which is much different than the definite uncomfortable feeling of being hungry). 

“Really mum, do I?” Harry drawls back bitingly, his aching body agreeing with his tutor’s statement. He wouldn’t be first to admit that, however.

“You’re still not up to full health and tomorrow you’ve got a long day of training if you expect to master firebending in this lifetime. We should be getting to bed.”

“You propositioning me in front of the Firelord, Lou?” Harry teases with half-lidded eyes, earning a peal of laughter from Niall and a growing smirk on the aforementioned royal’s face. Liam looks inquisitively on as well, not shying away from the confrontation but not quite basking in it like the man on his right is.

“Idiot.” Louis murmurs under his breath, gritting his teeth. “Fine. But just know tomorrow, no matter how much you complain, I’m not taking it easy on you.” And with that he rises to his feet, fists clenched as he storms off towards his quarters, leaving a rather confused quartet in his wake.

“Chipper lad.” Niall remarks, earning an eye roll in agreement from Harry.

“You’d think I was the anti-Avatar from the way that guy looks at me.” The actual Avatar remarks, knocking back the last of his tea with a stiff yawn. He rises to his feet however, nodding at each of his friends with his thousand-watt smile. “Speaking of though, and I’ll never admit to sayin’ this, but the prick is rather right. I’ve got another long day of torture in store tomorrow, so I’m off to bed. See you lads at dinner?” Harry is earnest when he speaks, looks each member of the group directly in the eyes and offers warm looks.

“Of course.”

“Lookin’ forward to it!”

“Goodnight, Harry,” And with that and a self-satisfied nod, the boy bows deeply and blows an exaggerated kiss to the remaining trio, limping off towards his actual room to hopefully find rest where it had been hiding the past good long while.

As his lythe figure disappears into the darkness of the night, Niall turns to the two boys he’s still stuck with.

“What’s their deal?” He wonders aloud.

“Oh, Niall. Sit in mate, I’ve much to inform you.” Zayn responds conspiratorially, and Niall understands that as it so often does, with war comes love.

***

Harry tries not to dream anymore. It’s not quite as simple as he hopes it to be, the not dreaming, that is, but it doesn’t stop him. The only real cure to dreaming is not sleeping, which is often something that Harry subscribes to. However, the previous evening, colored by his first night out of the infirmary in what feels like an eternity, didn’t leave much room for conversation.  
He wakes with a parched scream on his lips, and a contorted array of winding limbs. He wakes with sleep-bruised eyes and sweat-caked skin, with something awful and violent resting firmly on the tip of his tongue. He shakes salty-wet ringlets of hair from out of his eyeline, scrubs at his face as if it will take the desperate pain away, erase the harsh memories from ever again facing the cold light of day. 

He rises, slowly, mirrors the movements of the lazy Summer sun, twin glows lining their well-worn faces. He goes about a monotonous morning routine of bathing, meditating, dressing, blinking sleep-drenched eyes, stretching, and mentally preparing himself for a strenuous day of training with his crotchety firebending master.

Harry remembers patches of the night of the attack. He recalls the bone-tired weariness that had stretched from head to toe in his body after spending an entire day healing. He can recount the panic he had felt when he realized that they had walked into a setup, remembers the hot fear that had shot through his chest when he couldn’t find Zayn, of something akin to rage that lit his entire body aflame when he found him mid-battle. He remembers a metal mask, the crushing weight of something bearing down on him, the cold cutting feel of earth in one white-knuckled hand.

The feeling of someone holding him, pulling him from the excitable, snapping jaws of death. He remembers being held, as if he was someone who deserved to be, as if he was someone who was allowed to be.

He remembers icy eyes.

The boy shakes the pain-tinted memories from the forefront of his mind, stretches his limbs out to erase the weight of someone else coiled tightly around him protectively. He has been on his own for so very long. He stumbles out of his room then drags his feet behind him as he makes his way to the training quarters, can already see the grimace that will be lining Louis’ face when he arrives. So, he pastes on a painful pearly smile, and summons all the courage he has to combat the older boy’s incomparable rage.

“Louis, don’t you just look a ray of sunshine?” The brunet crows when he enters the chambers causing the other boy to raise a brow. Harry mentally gives himself a high-five when he notes the perfectly painted on grimace that his master wears.

“You’re late.” He responds without missing a beat.

“I’m sorry.” Harry responds, forgoing the usual sarcastic response for something uncomfortably genuine. Something alights in the firebending’s eyes at the admonition, but Harry avoids eye contact and immediately begins doing warm-ups. He feels Louis’ eyes burning a hole in his back, the tense air filled with what each of them should say but could not possibly.

The rest of the morning passes in a rehearsed dance of sorts. Louis barks insults at Harry who, despite himself, deepens the furrow in his brow and pushes himself _harder_. Because there is something that pangs in the very root of Harry’s swollen heart whenever he remembers warm-muscled arms wrapped tightly around him, there’s something that burns blush-red within him. He wants Louis to be proud of him, a feat he knows is as close to impossible as one can get, a thing he curses himself for everytime the thought bubbles to life inside of his rapidly shuffling brain.

At around midday, Harry can’t keep himself in check any longer.

“I think I’m much better at this than you give me credit for,” He wears his haughtiest smirk, feeling as if it’s well-deserved after taking on two warriors at once using only firebending. He’s only been at firebending for a few weeks (not counting the elongated amount of time spent half-dead in the infirmary), but he’s grown to be quite proficient at it. Harry’s always been a fast learner, ever since his mother had taught him the basics of waterbending just as he was learning to walk. He had mastered earthbending lightning fast, in just a few short months. He had always been a particularly grounded boy, had always understood the importance of being wholly within oneself.

“I think you’ve grown rather cocky, kid,” Louis bites back and Harry cringes at the nickname. He hasn’t been a kid since, well, he doesn’t like much to dwell.

“C’mon Louis, you’ve got to admit. I’m picking this up rather quickly. Perhaps there’s even room for us to see Zayn and Niall at lunch.” Harry’s voice is sickeningly chipper, and he pretends not to notice the annoyed glint that rushes it’s way through Louis’ gaze at the mention of the airbender. Harry didn’t quite understand that animosity, but much about Louis was based on the inability to understand him. 

“If you beat me, then we can have lunch with your friends.” 

“ _Our_ friends, Louis.”

“It’s actually rather inappropriate that you address me so casually, kid.” Louis growls as he gets into position, beginning to circle around the fighting area. Harry mimics his movements, a gentle smile finding its way to his face, and he dips his head in a giggling nod, and when he rises it again to make eye contact with the clear blue gaze ahead. Louis strikes without a moment’s hesitation, leaping forwards and slicing his hand down, bringing with him a blaze of burning fire.

Harry spins, deflects the blast with a cross of his arms over his face, and windmills his legs, tightening his hands into mirroring fists, shooting four perfect bolts of fire in Louis’ direction. He laughs broadly when the other man must roll on the ground to avoid the onslaught, giggles only intensifying at the dark look the firebending shoots in response.

The Master gets to his feet. “Don’t laugh,” He commands, bending his knees and pushing his arms outwards with the utmost force. A wall of fire comes flying at Harry, whose grin fades as he folds in on himself, palms outwards to form a small hole in the incoming attack which he bounds through gracefully. He takes great gasping breaths of air, wipes sweat soaked curls from his sticky forehead. Louis does not wait to continue, Harry can barely track his movements as he continues to battle with little consideration.

Harry’s clothing has begun to catch fire as he moves from practicing advanced offensive maneuvers to just focusing on getting burned less. The shorter boy has been barking instructions and critique at the Avatar, all the while not letting up with the seemingly unending onslaught of bold orange fingers of flame. Harry feels as though he himself is on fire, his limbs and extremities still sore from the attack all those nightmare-filled evenings ago. 

His stomach growls just as he blindly bats away at another fire punch. Louis’ got him cornered now, his eyes burning in tandem with the bonfire he himself has created. Harry, after living so much of his life in fear, in a defensive position, knows when he has been had. Unwittingly, he begins searching for escape routes, has to remind himself that this is _not_ like all those times prior. He is no longer a boy, a child, he is no longer so woefully unprepared for an unforgiving world, for a solitary existence.

Harry falls to the ground then, at the whim of an extensive pulse of raw fire across his sternum. He does nothing to defend himself, after all, he knows when he’s been beat. He makes eye contact with the burning blue eyes above them, sees something flicker within them as Harry fruitlessly searches for something in that walled gaze. Louis betrays nothing, takes gasping breaths of air, his face now just centimeters away from the cornered boy’s as he leans over him, declaring himself winner.

They breathe the same air. Something stirs within the Avatar, he buries it deep, does not address it.

“I know you’re angry, kid” Louis turns away then, leaving Harry to sink further to the floor, wiping halfheartedly at his smoldering uniform. “Until you tap into that rage,” Louis turns on his heel, jams his right pointer finger aggressively into the center of his chest, inches from his fast-beating heart. “Until you stop hiding it away. Until you stop being scared of what you and it are capable of, you will be _nothing_.”

And what can Harry do but fold in on himself? What can he do but let the remembrance of an icy blue eyed gaze bore holes into his very soul and rip him apart piece by aching piece?


End file.
